Seventeen

𝖎𝖝. under the silver moon

Fear is the darkness that tangled itself onto her sunlight shadow and it pours itself down her throat with a tilted teapot full of shame with shaking hands— Hermione had wished many times that this guilt would soften her edges and eat the rupture in her chest— but it never did. Sometimes, she felt like a visitor in her own body, like a waiting room in the midst of a growing winter. Hermione wished she didn't feel this way, but she did. She couldn't have done anything about it, really, and she did try, but nothing ever truly worked. Her mother used to tell her that she could be anything; anything but happy, anything but smiling, an auditorium of a chest with hollow heartbeats, a stack of handwritten letters, a book with no pages— 'anything, Hermione, you could be it!'.

          She did believe it for awhile, like the time she punched Malfoy in the nose, for when she was in the middle of the bookstore in golden hour, for never being in the underside of love, for having straight A's and being told she was the best wizard of her year— she's had so many 'anything's', that she's starting to run out. But she would always wonder where to put all of her wanting. She had wanted so much, but never as much as she wanted this, how she's wanted Solaris in every brink of every question she's ever had. No one ever truly got her, but she felt like Solaris did.

          She has always held onto things much heavier than she was, she remembered them so she could feel as infinite as her Father said she would. It never worked, but she had been carrying a lump of sadness around until the sun set and the world turned.

          "Do you like her?"

"She's a girl," Hermione hushed. "It isn't allowed."

"It is allowed, Mione," Ginny shook her head and insisted. "She's very pretty."

"She is, isn't she?"

"You like her, then?"

"I think I do," Hermione sighed. "But I'm afraid."

"What's to be afraid of?"

"Everything. She's a girl."

"You know," Ginny started. "She smiles at you, an awful lot— but she never smiles elsewhere. No one will think of you any less if you do like Solaris."

"Perhaps, I do," Hermione stated. "But I'm never sure."

"How you talk about her sounds an awful lot like love."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Didn't mean to, but— it's true."

"How did we get to love? I thought we were on about liking."

"Well, it's not my fault you speak about her that way."

"I think perhaps you're right, Gin."

"You're not afraid anymore?" Ginny asked, taking a small bite out of her carrot.

"I am," Hermione sighed. "But, she's all that scares me and makes me brave all the same."

"That's romantic."

"She tried to kiss me."

"What?!"

"Shh," Hermione shushed. "I dodged it."

"But why? You like her!"

"Because Ronald."

"Ew. Ronald? Ron? You're dumping Solaris Blanche for Ron?"

"Ginny! That's your brother."